Here For The Story
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: A collection of unrelated ficlets and filled prompts. 10: flash fic prompt "Renewing Wedding Vows."
1. 01

_\- 1 - _

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_Based on a Tumblr prompt submitted to Castlefanficprompts; prompt posted at the end. _

* * *

He clutches the slim, inconspicuously stylish box against his chest as he sprints up the stairs, taking them two at a time; didn't have any patience to wait for the elevator down in the lobby. He's panting; he's pretty sure he's never been quite that fast in and out of a boutique successfully. He's a little proud of himself, if he's honest, just hoping this will make up for his earlier clumsiness. As much as they bicker and tease and play off each other, he hates actually making her life harder, tries his best to fix what he can if he messed up.

He hurries along the hallway when he reaches the top of the stairs, knocks quickly, two raps in rapid succession while he pushes open the door the changing rooms.

"Beckett, are you in here? I've brought you- Oh, you're, uhm-" He freezes in his steps, standing stock-still, his mouth suddenly parched. "Naked. I mean, mostly-"

"Castle!" She hisses, her arms crossed tightly over her bra-clad chest, eyes glaring daggers at him and he doesn't know where to look, his eyes skimming along that glorious, pale skin, the slim lines of her waist disappearing into the waistband of her pants, back up to her face where he's met with her glare, then quickly dropping his gaze down to the ground, staring fixedly at her shoes.

"Turn around!"

He whirls around instantly, eyes focused on the door, only the door and nothing but the door, the crack running through it about two thirds up, the perfect tear-drop shaped runner of dried paint in utilitarian steel-grey below the handle, his heart hammering against his ribcage so hard that he can barely breathe normally.

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

"I brought you-" He holds out his arm, the cardboard box clasped in his hand. "Uhm, a shirt. Because I ruined- You know-"

"You…" He hears her exhale, feels more than hears her take an automatic step further away. "You bought me a shirt?"

He nods, his arm starting to tingle from his over-extended elbow, waiting through seemingly interminably long seconds of stillness with only the soundtrack of her breathing until at last she's carefully stepping closer. He can feel her presence behind him, the warmth emanating from her skin as she tucks the box from his hand.

"Thank you." She sounds a little shell-shocked, still, and he's not sure whether it's in a good way. He wishes she'd expect more from him; he'd give her everything, if only she'd let him.

"I'll, uhm-" God, when did he get this incoherent, unable to form whole sentences? "I'm gonna go now." And then he's practically running, the door slamming shut behind him as he falls against it with his back, desperately trying to regulate his rapid breathing.

* * *

She blushes furiously when their eyes meet as she comes down the stairs into the bullpen and he thinks he's staring with his mouth hanging open because the new white blouse fits her perfectly, the silk hugging the lithe lines of her body like a tentative caress and she's just so-

"Beautiful." The word flies out of his mouth before he's censored his thoughts and she's staring at him with wide eyes, her teeth skating across her bottom lip in that way that makes his stomach clench and his blood unfurl, pounding vividly through his body.

"Thank you." Her voice is intimate whisper and he feels as if they are the only people in the world, has to remind himself that they're standing in the middle of the bullpen with practically two dozen pairs of eyes on them.

"For the shirt, I mean." Kate runs a hand down her side, curling around her waist and really, she's got to stop doing that. "It's gorgeous."

He can't help but reach out, sliding his thumb and index finger along the soft silk encasing her wrist, the fabric warmed from the heat of her skin, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse. "You're welcome," he husks, his voice no longer under his mastery and she's staring at him, her eyes wide and more amber than he's ever seen before.

"It fits perfectly," she whispers.

"I have a good eye."

She smiles, the Beckett he knows breaking through. "You do stare a lot."

He shrugs. "Can't help it." He meant to be playful but it comes out raw and earnest and she startles, her breath hitching in her chest.

"I should… I should go. Back to work." She's tugging her hand back from him and he nods helplessly, letting her pass.

But his heart keeps hammering and he can still feel her heartbeat beneath her skin, the spark of 'something' in her eyes and hell, he thinks, in for a penny, right?

"Kate." He calls her back quietly but the use of her first name gets her attention. She turns for him, eyes wide and questioning, and he sucks in a deep breath, lets it spill forth with the anxious question surging from his chest.

"Would you like to go for a drink? Tonight? With me?"

And later that night, after several drinks with their bodies smudged tightly against each other in a dark, intimate booth she presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, the promise of more shining tangibly in her eyes, and he thinks he'd buy her a thousand new shirts if only she keeps looking at him like that.

* * *

_Prompt: After the coffee-spilling incident in 2x11, Castle goes to Beckett to apologize, only to find her shirtless._

_Thank you for reading!_


	2. 02

2

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_AU scene insert for 'Cops and Robbers', based on a prompt found on Castlefanficprompts - prompt quoted at the end._

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"Castle!"

She wants to just run, storm through the rubble and debris, fear urging her on, has to make a conscious effort to remember her training, to take careful steps, keep her guard up, her weapon cocked; fully alert as she guides the team through the destroyed interior of the bank.

Her stomach clenches, her heart a rushed, forceful thing in her chest, thrumming so hard that nausea pushes up her throat. She can't believe- She just saw him, feeling an almost physical pain as she had to leave him behind as she stepped out of the bank building. She felt his eyes on her, could practically sense his trust, his belief in her as the doors closed and were blocked behind her and if that was the last time-

"Castle!" She calls his name again, trains her ears to listen to any sound making it past the crunching foot steps of the SWAT team surrounding her as they clear the space. Dust settles around them, particles sticking to her lips, gritty in her eyes as she tries to see through the hazy aftermath of the explosion.

"Beckett!"

Her heart leaps, the relief a tangible flavor in her mouth, a rush in her ears - he's alive, he's alive!

"They're here!" She calls out, her voice raw with relief, rushes forward to where she can see him- his smile peeking through the steel bars as he seeks her out, the tentative wave of his hand, his eyes shining with joy and pride and - love.

She hurries for him, no stopping now; drawn to the warmth of his smile she sinks to her knees before him, her breath rushing out with mundane words as she clips his restraints.

"How are you?" Not at all what she wants to say, needs to say but it's all she has right now, just her racing heart and the joy welling through her, the ever-present need for him that lives just beneath the surface of her skin, carefully censored and held at bay but he could've died today, he could be dead and it's all spilling out, on display across her face, her smile stretching her cheeks wide. She wants to leap into his arms and just cling to him, aches for the strength of his embrace, wants to feel his heart still beating and his breath gliding in and out of his lungs, feel his body unmarred in her embrace - a miracle - but instead she tugs on his collar, so careful, always careful, with herself, with him; fumbles with the starched, expensive fabric because they don't do this, she doesn't do this even though she wants-

He's all she wants.

He is - so beautiful, eyes so blue and the skin crinkled at the corners, a testament to the years of his laughter, the joy he lives and shares. His smile is warm and just for her - she knows this look is hers alone, has long since claimed it, waiting silently, tentatively for that elusive right time but now she's yearning for him, raw and open and aching, her need an electric thing sparking between them as she inexorably leans closer, helpless to the draw of his scent, so familiar despite the clouds of chalky dusk that flint and flitter around them, to his smile, his warmth-

"Oh for heaven's sake, Katherine, just kiss the man!"

* * *

His head thunks back against the wall, eyes squeezed tightly shut - oh Mother. Heat rushes to his face, flushing his cheeks with embarrassment because it's what he wants, it's all he wants, and he thought maybe, just maybe- He yearns to feel her lips against his, warm and pliant and vividly familiar, the phantom memory of their long-ago kiss his reminder, his daily hope. When she came rushing through the grey, dust-clouded space toward him he felt like the sun had come out after a dark, icy winter, his heart thundering rapidly against his ribcage, his ears deafened by the rush of his blood pounding through his veins. He wants to tug her into his arms and not let go again, smell the cherry-scent of her hair, feel the soft skin of her wrist beneath the stroke of his thumb, the soft weight of her breasts pressed against his chest, lifting and falling with each warm breath.

But he needs to be careful with her, can't push her when he's promised her patience in carefully veiled words. He tightens his hands into fists, nails digging crescent marks into the flesh of his palms so as not to reach for her but then her mouth is on his, warm and pliable, her almost inaudible moan tangible against his lips. His eyes fly open, barely able to grasp the reality but her fingers are gripping each side of his collar, tugging him forward into the so-soft touch of her lips.

"Kate," he murmurs, barely comprehending and she takes her opportunity, slides her tongue across his bottom lip, curling into his mouth and then he's gripping her to him, his palm sliding around her neck and the other tight across her lower back, can't help but drag her into his lap, needing her closer, closer. He sinks into the kiss, can't get enough, her breath warm and her lips tender, almost tentative, but her kiss deepened with ache, with almost desperate need, still flavored with the remnants of fear.

"I'd thought I'd lost you," she husks into his mouth, her fingers gliding to his jaw, his ear, the short hairs at the back of his neck in tender caresses.

"No, never, never," he promises, kissing her again, and again, and again, because he can't ever be without this woman again, doesn't want to; she's part of him, she's his conscience, his heart.

She's everything.

* * *

_Prompt submitted by 'remuslovestonks': cops &amp; robbers AU where instead of saying "you know he's not the only one here", Martha tells Kate to kiss Castle (like Gates did in 'Still')_


	3. 03

_3_

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_Wedding Day AU scene. (Tumblr repost) for Fluff Friday. _

* * *

He can't breathe. Literally can't breathe. All the air is stuck in his lungs, his mouth gaping open.

She's… breathtaking. The most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

She's framed by the doorway, a vision draped in delicate white lace, haloed by the gold flares of the late afternoon sunlight that kiss her hair, her cheeks, make her eyes sparkle. And her stunning smile - brighter than the sun, brighter than the brilliant white of her dress.

"Thought I'm not supposed to see the bride before the wedding?" He croaks when he finally recovers his ability to form words after too long moments where he's incapable of taking his eyes off her, roaming up and down and up again until she blushed, her eyelids lowered in an adorable bout of shyness.

"Since when have we ever been traditional about anything?" She shrugs, sliding further into the room, her dress whispering with every step she takes closer to him.

"Touché." He slides his arm around her waist to tug her against him; can't help but draw her close now that she's here, almost desperate to touch her, hold her – to feel that she is real, that this is truly happening. He's giddy and stunned, almost disbelieving and shout-it-from-the-rooftop-happy all at once because they're getting married. Today. T minus 30 minutes.

Her body is slender in his arms, lithe and warm and familiar, the lace of her dress smooth against his fingertips and he takes this moment of tranquility to hug her tightly to him, soak her in. The tip of her nose nudges his cheek, her lips teasing the line of his jaw and he turns for her, kisses her tenderly. Her lips are supple against his, taste like hope and happiness and forever.

"I've a gift for you," she hums when they pull apart, handing him a small gift box she'd held hidden behind her back.

"Breaking more traditions?" He questions teasingly even though his heart starts pounding viciously at the sight of the slim, rectangular gift box, his stomach flutters with hope and excitement and the lure of possibilities.

"Want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into," she grins, pleased with herself, eyebrow arched and those teeth nipping on her luscious bottom lip in that way she knows drives him crazy.

With shaking fingers he attempts to lift the lid, tissue paper rustling and crackling and she brushes her fingertips across his knuckles, her touch soothing him as he makes contact with his gift hidden inside.

He lifts the wand-like white stick from its bed of pastel yellow tissue paper, stares at the bright, unmistakable pink 'plus' sign.

"I couldn't wait," she admits more quietly, her smile a little nervous, eyelashes fluttering but he hardly hears the words because the blood is roaring in his ears, his grin already stretching so wide across his cheeks that he can feel the strain to his skin.

Best wedding present ever!

"I'm pregnant."


	4. 04

_4_

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_Written for the following prompt submitted to me: Beckett has a cold and tries to hide it from Castle, but he quickly catches on and attempts to take care of her. Set mid-season 4. _

* * *

She sneezed for the seventh time in a row, then grabbed several tissues at once, blew her nose. Leaning over the vanity, she eyed herself critically in the mirror, noticed the pallor of her skin, the light sheen of sweat that pearled at her hairline.

Crap. She really had no time to get sick. They had a new case with no leads yet and the paperwork was still piling up from the last two cases. Not to mention she was still out of sick days after last summer.

Beckett wet a couple of paper towels, wiping first her forehead, then her neck, leaving the cool, moist towels against her skin for a few moments until a shiver crawled up her spine. At last she swiped beneath her eyes to remove the smudges of mascara that had ran with her watering eyes, giving herself a last pep talk before she strode from the restroom with more strength than she felt.

She was just going to have to fake it until she made it.

* * *

"I'b not sick." Beckett glared up at him as he hovered by her desk, looking at her with unconcealed concern which made it just so much harder to tell herself she was fine.

"If you can't pronounce words without superfluous 'b's, you are sick," Castle insisted, placing her coffee cup on her desk.

"I'b find." She eagerly reached for her coffee, valiantly ignoring his half-triumphant, half-concerned stare that never wavered. She raised the mug to her lips, eyes fluttering closed expectantly as the hot liquid met her lips. And cringed.

"Whad'is this?" She eyed her mug and the pale yellow liquid that swirled within.

"Emergen-C. It's good for you." She frowned. He stubbornly glared back. "Drink up."

"Ugh Cassle, can I please hab sob coffee?" She blinked at him, pretty certain that the entirety of her misery was spelled out in her watery eyes.

His fingers glanced across the ball of her shoulder for just a second as he sat down.

"Absolutely." She perked up at his promise.

"After the Emergen-C."

* * *

"I'b not sick," she announced the moment she drew the door open for him, but it was no more than a token comment and they both knew it. She'd finally, finally been able to go home, had had barely enough strength left to claw off her clothes, slide into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater that hung almost to her knees and left barely her fingertips peeking out from beneath the sleeves. She'd known it was him the moment the knock sounded from her door.

"I'b… I'mbbb…" She gave up. "'Kay I'b sick."

"I brought you some chicken soup." Castle held up the plastic bag, knotted closed at the handles. Oh. Sweet, sweet man.

"Thangg you." She reached for it, swaying on her feet as she leaned forward, and his hands were there instantly, cradling her elbows as he held her upright. He was so close, looked so safe and comfortable and she fought the urge to just sag into him, wondered how it'd feel if he cradled her against his chest.

"It's from the Thai place you like." He let go of her arms once she was steady. She keenly felt the loss.

"Here, let me get it ready for you." He was in her kitchen in three long strides, depositing the bag at the counter.

"I'b okay." She dragged herself to her couch, all her strength suddenly sapped from her and she could do nothing more than to sink into the cushions, drag her cozy blanket over her knees. "You don' hab to stay."

"But I want to take care of you," he answered to the rhythm of her cabinets being opened and closed, drawers pulled open and shut.

"Why?"

He went silent. She sensed it more than she heard or saw it, wanted to bite it back immediately. She forced her heavy eyelids open, met his gaze, found him looking at her - and looking hurt and lonely and so forlorn that she could hardly stand it.

She knew why. They both did.

She wished she was stronger, wished so much she was where she wanted to be, for him, for them. She knew she wasn't yet, couldn't bear the idea that she'd ruin this beautiful, amazing thing they were so tenderly building between them with the mountain of issues she was trying to conquer.

But the hurt in his eyes was unbearable, like a punch to her solar plexus.

She could give him this. Wanted to give him this. She wanted him here with her.

"Okay," she nodded, ignored the pounding in her head at the movement. "Would you stay add hab some soup wid me?"

Castle nodded, and the smile that curled up the corners of his lips made her feel warmer than any soup ever would.


	5. 05

_5_

* * *

_3-word prompt, submitted by 47secondsofveritas: 'Kate - book-tour - surprise'_

* * *

He looks up - and his heart somersaults, leaps against his rib cage, throbs in his neck where he can feel the furious pound of his blood beneath the skin.

"You can make it out to Kate." She winks, her smile warm and soft and undeniably pleased with herself.

This - she - is not what he expected.

He hadn't wanted to leave, not now - not when he felt closer to her every day, when she smiled at him and it made his heart race and butterflies erupt in his belly. When she touched him and didn't even seem to notice, just the instinctive way her fingertips were seeking the sleeves of his arms, and the lingering pressure of her touch, tender and - dare he believe it? - loving. Not after their not-quite-date at Ryan's wedding that had her by his side all evening long, lithe and gorgeous and serene, or folded into his arms for a dance that turned into several, with her body melting against his chest and her cheek smudged to his and her breath a warm caress against his neck. He hadn't wanted to go, didn't want to miss a thing, not one moment of time he could be spending with her.

Yet the book tour had been non-negotiable and so he found himself reluctantly bouncing from city to city and missing her a little more with each passing day. This weekend had stretched endlessly before him, another night in Chicago with its frigid lake winds hurtling through the canyons of the city until this moment when-

"Kate," he whispers, stutters, no longer suave writer, just man utterly in love. His hand hovers above the page, the generic phrase hanging frozen in his fingertips. "What- What are you doing here?"

A blush tints her cheeks, her teeth skating across her bottom lip in that subconsciously seductive way of hers that makes heat bloom in his midsection, low and deep and luring.

"I came to ask if you had plans for tonight?" She's smiling but he can see the insecurity lurking in the depths of her eyes, her fingers fidgeting with nerves.

"You-" He has to breathe, and control the shaking of his voice. "You flew all the way to Chicago to ask me- on a date?"

She nods, shifts her weight from one leg to the other and he has to censor the wide grin that wants to spread across his cheeks. He'd been waiting for her, hoping, feeling the inevitability of them with every day and yet there's something so surreal about this kind of hope, something intangible, implausible. And now she's here, like a Fata Morgana, a warm island in the middle of this icy, lonely desert.

His smile turns soft instead, private, just for her, and he reaches for her fingertips, wraps his fingers around hers for a drawn-out, secret moment, hidden from inquisitive eyes of the long row of fans still lined up behind Kate. He squeezes, feels the rush of relief rattle through her, and the strength of her fingers as she squeezes back.

"I'm all yours."


	6. 06

_6_

* * *

_3-word prompt, submitted by castlefreak1975: "Are You Pregnant?"_

* * *

"Something's' different."

Kate leaned back in her desk chair, exhaling an exasperated breath while rolling her eyes at him in that way that he'd long since learned was pure affection. "Really, that's your evidence? Something's different?"

He was undeterred. He knew his wife, sometimes better than she even realized. And something was definitely different.

"You're pregnant." He nodded, wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I can tell."

"Castle, I'm showing no symptoms to substantiate your erroneous claim!" God he loved it when she wielded language at him like a sword. "No morning sickness, I'm not fatigued, I've no cravings or mood swings, all my clothes still fit, my breasts aren't tender or swollen and I don't have to pee more than usual."

While she made a solid case, theoretically, he was not to be deterred. She was simply glowing, in that undefinable, indescribable way. He adored it.

"Not all women show all early symptoms."

"But I bet all women show at least one of them."

"You want to bet?" He tugged the slim box out of his coat pocket, slid the pregnancy test across her desk like the challenge it was.

"Fine." She leaned across the desk, her eyes sparkling and her mouth pursed when she accepted his dare and wow, she was so so hot. "But if you lose, you'll do the dishes for a month!"

"And what if I win?" He leaned in, their faces almost close enough for him to tug her bottom lip between his teeth, tease her until she lost all coherent thought.

"If you win you'll get a baby! I don't know what more you'd want!"

When she walked back into her office ten minutes later and the little plus sign seemed to glow on the white plastic stick, he realized she was right. There was nothing more he could want.


	7. 07

_7_

* * *

_3-word prompt, submitted by brokenlikeapromise: "Please Don't Go." Episode insert for 3x22 "To Love and Die in L.A."_

* * *

"Please don't go." It's a whisper that echoes off the walls in the vast hotel suite, and she freezes in her step, her heart seemingly leaping out of her chest, the blood rushing in her ears. She isn't sure he meant to say it, or for her to hear it. The silence that enfolds them is oppressive, leaves her breathless, voiceless, an empty shell of herself. Her fingers are clamped around the handle of her bedroom door, her knuckles turning white. She can't move forward, can't go back.

"If I don't go-" Her voice sounds raw even to her own ears, her stomach rolling anxiously, making her want to flee. She fights her fear, instead pushes the words up her throat, voices the harsh reality of their moment. "We'll do something we'll both regret."

"Would-" The pain in his voice is unmistakable and it's like a fist crushing her heart in its grip. Hot tears are clogging her throat, brimming at her eyes.

"Would I be someone you'd regret?"

"No!" She cries out, turning for him, her back sinking against the door behind her. "Not you." She shakes her head, lifting watery eyes to him. "I could never regret you."

"Kate." He's coming for her, one step, and then another, and she's said too much, revealed too much, everything. She faces murderers every day, guns and knives and battle, and yet she thinks she's never been this scared before. Her heart is racing, the blood pounding through her, loud and suffocating, and then he's standing before her, bodies carefully not touching and yet his warmth folds around her like an embrace, and it's like a soothing balm to her anxious, scattered mind.

Castle lifts a hand to her face, cradling his palm around the line of her jaw, his touch so warm, so tender. Her eyes sink closed, tears pressing against her eyelids.

"I can't, Castle-"

"I know," he whispers, his fingers deliberate as he caresses the side of her face, the tender spot just beneath her ear. "I know."

She sinks her cheek into his warmth, her own hand coming up to cradle his where it's wrapped around her face. His forehead sinks to hers and the broadness of his presence cradles her as if she were folded into his arms. She breathes him in, his warmth, his patience, his understanding. His love.

She presses a kiss to the edge of his palm, feels him tense at the caress of her lips, his Adam's apple jumping as he swallows hard.

"Soon," she whispers, her eyes opening to meet his. His eyes are dark, mirroring the hard edge of desire that's clawing at her. Her voice strengthened by her promise, infused by the sudden sense of inevitable, of right, she trails her fingers down the side of his neck, his sternum, letting them fall off to hang at her side.

"Soon."


	8. 08

_8_

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_3-word prompt, submitted by 74flawsasofyesterday: "Tastes Like Chicken"_

* * *

"It tastes like chicken." She pushed her plate away, her nose scrunched in disgust and the corners of her mouth turned down in abject disappointment.

He'd grin at her look if it didn't feel so serious, her misery like his misery. "It's beef."

"I know! Everything tastes like chicken. I'm so sick of it!" She sank her forehead onto the dining room table, her hair fanning out around her head, and he curled his fingers against the nape of her neck, rubbing slow circles over her skin. She hummed a miserable whine. At least - at least - things were staying down for now; a small victory. Her cheeks hollow by now, losing weight instead of gaining; nothing to worry about, yet, the doctor said but he wasn't appeased so they were trying Chinese again, all variations he could think of, a sea of white cardboard pagodas like waves across the table.

He pushed another cardboard container at her.

"Try this one."

Kate lifted her head, still interested despite it all. "Tofu? I hate tofu…" Wielding the chopsticks she dug in anyway, sniffing at the rubbery cube before she pushed it into her mouth, carefully chewing.

"Oh. It's spicy, too." She perked up, picked out a second piece. "Oh this is good!"

"Not like chicken?"

"Not like chicken!" This pregnancy had been messing with her fiercely, she'd barely been able to keep any food down and whatever she'd tried had had the flavor of chicken. He tried a piece from her container, and she glared at him, tugged the cardboard box toward herself. His eyes watered as he chewed, the hot curry biting at his throat.

"Whoa." He sputtered, the fierce burn working its way down his esophagus. "Hot. So so hot."

Her eyes sparkled, grinning at him while she dug more tofu and rice from her container. "Serves you right. This one's ours."

Great. Baby wasn't even born and they were already ganging up on him.

He loved every second of it.


	9. 09

_9_

* * *

_3-word prompt, submitted by Miranda_Jayne: "Pride and Prejudice." (credit: Jane Austen, "Pride and Prejudice", chapter 18)_

* * *

She'd just slid back to Lanie's side, quietly chatting with her friend when he was suddenly next to her, taking her by such surprise when he reached for her hand that she had accepted before she'd thought it through. He walked off, clearly expecting her to follow and she found herself shocked into immobility, fretting over why she couldn't just have said no.

Lanie bumped her side. "Come on, girl, why are you still standing here instead of getting your freak on with Writer Boy?"

"Hah! Never. He's annoying, self-centered, egotistical, and completely…"

"Fun?!" Lanie pushed her forward into the crowd as the band began the next song, and Castle took her hand once more, tugging her into the curve of his arms. Head held high, Kate took her place, adopted the formal posture of the dance and they started moving together almost effortlessly, the melody of the song guiding their steps and silence hanging between them, awkward and heavy. She didn't know where to look, her gaze traveling over his shoulder and across the crowd, surreptitiously eyeing the guests, reading in the looks of mainly the women their amazement that the rich, famous writer had chosen her as his dance partner.

He broke the silence first. "I think it's your turn to talk. I invited you to dance, isn't it time for you to make an acerbic comment?"

She looked at him, arched an eyebrow. "Whatever you want."

"Oh look, that's a smile! Come on, at least it's a private event. No paparazzi will get a photo of you in my arms and plaster you all over page 6." She just stayed silent, staring him down. Served him right for dragging her to this fancy-ass event. He only barely won this bet anyway. "Okay fine, we can be quiet," he acquiesced.

"Do you ever not run your mouth?"

"Occasionally. Someone has to talk at least a little. It'd be so awkward if we dance through this set, not speaking a word to each other. Though I guess some people-" He emphasized the last words, staring pointedly at her, "are quite adept at saying as little as possible in reply."

"Are you just thinking of yourself here, or also considering my feelings?"

"Both. We're quite alike, you and me. I can see it. We're both alphas, we need to define our territory, we just go about it in different ways-"

Just then a donor tapped Castle on the shoulder, their heads sinking together in discussion for a few moments, and Kate politely waited them out, because running away would've just made his point.

"Sorry about that." He wrapped a hand around her waist, dragging her back against him. "William's interruption made me forget what we were talking about."

"We weren't really speaking at all. In fact, we'd be hard-pressed to find two people in this room who had less to say for themselves."

"Alright. So tell me then, what do you think of my books?"

"Really? That's the topic you're going for?"

"Why not? At least we'd not be lacking a subject. We can compare and contrast opinions and viewpoints-"

"My mind is always too occupied with other things to spend time analyzing your writing."

"The present always occupies you at any moment, doesn't it?" He said, looking at her with so much understanding in the blue of his eyes that she suddenly felt stripped bare, her throat closing with a knot of tears.

"Yes, always," she admitted, their eyes holding while the room span around them as he waltzed her through the crowd, his hand warm where it lay against her skin, spread wide along her lower back.

"You don't forgive easily," he whispered, his mouth near her ear, the words for her alone. "and resentment, once created, is unappeasable. So you're cautious, I suppose, create a wall around you, keep distant so as to avoid creating it."

"I am."

"And you don't ever allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?" He pulled away slightly, looking straight at her. Her stomach fluttered.

"I hope not."

"It seems necessary for those who never change their opinion to not falsely judge based upon first impressions."

She swallowed hard, her breathing faltering. "Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"To figure you out. Trying to peel that Beckett onion," he winked, seemingly trying to shake her from her grave mood.

"And how's that going for you so far?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. There's so many sides to you." His eyes serious again, he dragged her closer so that her body was pressed against him, and her heart kept stumbling despite her determination to remain unaffected.

"I think you're a mystery I am never going to solve." The honesty, the barely disguised need in his voice startled her.

"I know-" She began, had to focus her thoughts, began again. "I know that I'm not the easiest person to get to know." She lifted her eyes to his, fought the tears that unreasonably tried to well up her eyes. She felt exposed, was making herself vulnerable in ways she hadn't thought she'd want to ever be with him. "What you see isn't all of me. And I wish… Castle, I hope you won't judge my character on who I am now, because there are reasons that I am how I am-"

"I'm just afraid," he admitted, his index finger running up along her spine, making her shiver. "that I may never have another opportunity."

She found his eyes, her fingers trailing over his sternum where his heart was leaping beneath her fingertips. "You will."


	10. 10

_10_

* * *

_Flash fiction prompt, submitted by Fembot77: "Renewing Wedding Vows"_

* * *

She looks at herself in the mirror one last time, sighs as she runs her fingertips over the crow's feet at her eyes, tugs a grey lock of hair behind her ear. She's let her hair go grey a little while ago, still isn't quite sure she likes it. The strands are shiny, almost silvery, and carefully treated by her hairdresser. The shimmer reminds her of fairytale characters, mythical creatures. She laughs at herself, smooths her hands down over the lines of her dress, her widened hips, the curves of her belly.

But she forgets every one of her self-critical thoughts, all her worries when she hears her cue and steps outside into the sunlight, and he's looking at her with that same spark in his eyes, that same smitten smile as he's always had since the moment she flashed her badge at him and he turned for her.

Castle.

It's a sigh, her heart racing and her breath shallow with a bout of excitement she didn't quite expect.

His hair is gray now too, but just as thick and unruly, and it's still soft, even though greying hair often gets coarse instead. Wrinkles define his features, bring out the laugh lines, the joy he's always carried within him, despite all the obstacles he's had to face, before her and with her, despite problems and bouts of illness and life's natural worries. His chest looks broad in his dark suit and she feels the urge to just slide her arms around his waist, bury her face into is sternum where she can feel his heart pounding.

Kate does just that, even though it's not what they'd rehearsed. She doesn't care; none of this matter when all she needs is to feel. When she's long since learned on a long winding road to go and feel, first.

"Hey, beautiful," he murmurs into her hair, his hands lingering on the teardrop of skin that the dress leaves naked on her back, and she sighs, inhales the scent of his skin through his shirt. "You look stunning."

She looks up at him, trails her fingers over his heart. "So do you."

He leans down and kisses her softly, lingers over her lips. Her knees still go weak, even after all this time.

Kate takes his hand in hers, her thumb brushing his knuckles. "You ready?"

"Always." He winks at her and she grins, feels her nose wrinkling with it, her teeth playing against her lip. And then they turn, face the officiant.

30 years, she thinks as the officiant begins to speak. 30 years since they stood under this same arch at their Hampton's house, embarking on their lives together. Despite the obstacles, against all odds, they fought for their happiness, and the rewards were sweeter, more incredible than she ever could've envisioned when she was young and her life was constant turmoil, loneliness, and emotional struggle.

They live permanently at their Hampton's home now, but it's never lost its magic in all the years - the calming rush of the ocean, the taste of salt in the air. The spectacular sunsets that remind her of all the beauty in the world when the days were hard, the realities of her work unimaginably heart-wrenching. The roar of the fireplace and Castle's arms around her, strong and unwavering in his devotion.

They've both lost their remaining parents by now, and some days she feels the loss so keenly that it's like being stabbed in the heart. She's never handled grief well. But their children are with them today, lining each side of the aisle, their grandchildren too, and she smiles, feels the joyful energy radiating from these amazing people that they've created, whom she's sure will change the world for the better.

And then there's Rick - her best friend, her partner, the love of her life. His hand warm and dry against hers, his calm energy soothing as it seems to wrap her under his spell. He's turned quieter, as they aged, calm and steady, a port in all her storms and she can't imagine how she ever would've survived without him.

So today, 30 years later they speak vows, reaffirm what they've always known. That he belongs with her, as she belongs with him.

Partners, in crime and in life.

Always. And forever.


End file.
